Scared by Sarah Masters Read Free Book Online Page A

given him what he wanted. Wasn't that enough?
    "I have something I need to do, Stephen. I have some guests I need to talk to when they arrive later on. It might take some time. You may go to your own room, to the living room, and to the kitchen. Oh, and you may use the downstairs toilet. Other than those rooms, you don't go anywhere else. Do you understand?"
    Frost stared at him with eyes that gave Stephen the damn creeps. They were hooded, black like that darkness when he'd first got here, and a livid pink scar marched down his cheek, thick and long. Why was it all mean people had scars? Why did every goddamn bad guy in movies or books have them?
    Stephen nodded.
    Frost walked toward the door. He turned, placing one hand on the oak jamb, the other on the edge of the matching door. He stared at Stephen again. “Oh, and if you think you can just walk out of here... Jonathan keeps guard by the front door. Kevin at the back. They're both armed. All the windows are locked and can't be smashed. And even if you did manage to get out, there are dogs on the grounds. Big ones. With big teeth. Think of your mum, Stephen, hmm?"
    Stephen nodded again, steeling himself not to cry in front of this sadistic fucker. He'd tried not to earlier in the bedroom, but hadn't been able to hold it back. His emotions had spilled, Frost's touch unleashing them.
    "Good. I won't bother you again tonight. Don't want to ruin your arse with too much fucking too soon."
    Frost strode out, and Stephen sagged against the side of the shower stall with relief. At least he'd have some measure of comfort for a little while. But then again, not knowing when Frost would fuck him next would keep Stephen's nerves right on edge.
    Shit.
    He dried off, scrubbing hard at his skin until it reddened and grew sore.
    Frost was still on it.
    Stephen gritted his teeth and walked into the bedroom, half expecting Frost to still be there, even though he'd said he'd be elsewhere. The bed had been made, the quilt smooth, the pillows undented. Stephen's clothes spilled out of the dirty laundry hamper, and a fresh set, complete with shop labels, sat in a pile on the chair in the corner. He dressed absently, placing the tags in the small bin beside the bed. The socks were soft on his feet, but the boxer shorts chafed his arse.
    Wincing, he walked downstairs, resisting the temptation to go into the other bedrooms. And there were several—ten closed doors along the landing he stood on and ten opposite. People might still be asleep behind them.
    In the foyer, with its harlequin-tiled floor, the space as big as their living room at home, he glanced toward the front door. The guy named Jonathan, the one who had approached him on the street, stood with his legs apart, hands folded over his chest. A fucking mountain of a bloke, one Stephen wouldn't tackle if he was paid to do it. Near-white eyebrows rested in a straight line above eyes so blue Stephen wondered if the guy wore coloured contacts.
    Jonathan lifted his chin by way of greeting. Stephen lowered his eyes and headed toward the kitchen. He was hungry, had been since he left home last night, what with popping to the shop just before Mum dished the dinner up. But could he eat now? He hadn't managed to last night.
    In the kitchen, he glanced around, still surprised at the opulence even though he'd seen this room already. Fuck, how much did Frost earn? And what did he do for a living? The house was massive, and everything in it must have cost a pretty penny.
    Stephen went over to the double-wide fridge and pulled open both doors. It was filled with everything a person could want, a vast difference from theirs at home, which held what they needed for each week and nothing more. He'd peeked in the freezer this morning, and that had been the same. Packed to fucking bursting.
    Surprisingly, Stephen had the taste for pizza, despite the early hour. Someone must have had take-out last night, because a Domino's box rested on one of the fridge